


The Night Vale Radio Holiday Party

by Xochiquetzl



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Awkward Holiday Parties, Hanukkah, Jewish Cecil, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xochiquetzl/pseuds/Xochiquetzl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Amy's prompt here:  http://allofthefeelings.tumblr.com/post/104521356215/in-response-to-ameliaratings-point-that-holiday</p><p>"We’re the only two people at this office ‘holiday’ party who seem uncomfortable with the way it’s all transparently Christmas stuff so let’s talk over here in a corner about how much we hate everything" AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Vale Radio Holiday Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fannishbutterfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishbutterfly/gifts).



There was a deep, tortured moaning coming from behind station management's door, which meant that everything was perfectly normal. The doors and glass from the broadcast booth shook in time with the deep moans as Cecil and Carlos—lovely Carlos, beautiful Carlos with his perfect hair—passed by to the break room on the way to the annual Holiday party.

"Don't you hate how these things are always so Christian?" Carlos murmured.

"Yes," Cecil said, "but what prompted this observation?"

"Station management is humming 'Deck the Halls' in 7/8, three octaves down."

Cecil paused for a moment and listened. Carlos appeared to be right, as usual. He wasn't certain which was more disturbing: the idea of station management humming Christmas carols, or… no, that was clearly as disturbing as it was possible to get. He picked up the pace, as did Carlos. Time to change the subject. "So you're not…"

"Agnostic," Carlos said. "I feel that the scientific evidence is inconclusive either way." 

They walked into the break room then, where there was a tree, tinsel, cookies in the shapes of trees—and not proper trees, either, all gaunt and twisted by wind and drought, but those stupid northern European pines that people think of as Christmas trees, and Hiram McDaniels dressed as Santa Claus, with a red fuzzy hat on each of his five heads. And, of course, the traditional stone slab with the sign reading, "EMBRACE THE DARKNESS." 

No Menorah to be seen anywhere. 

Cecil eyed a dish full of raw meat and a punch bowl full of what appeared to be blood and murmured, "I hate how Christian these things are." 

The two of them edged into a corner—the one without the mistletoe, Cecil was sorry to note—and watched as Martha from HR led everyone in off-key renditions of such Christmas classics as "Deck the Halls with Blood and Entrails" and "Hark, the beings who are totally not angels sing." 

"Would it kill us to sing Ma'oz Tsur at one of these things?" Cecil murmured. 

Carlos pulled out his phone and searched the web. He glanced up at Cecil curiously, then whispered back, "Statistically, it seems unlikely to be fatal. Would you like for me to suggest it?" 

Cecil sighed, and Hiram started to lead the group in a rousing rendition of, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Dragon." He shook his head. 

Carlos continued to look at his phone, poking and swiping, then leaned closer and murmured, "I've just found something very interesting. Apparently, there's a game called strip dreidel. Do you own a dreidel?"

Cecil grabbed Carlos' hand and headed towards the door. "Sorry, guys," he said. "I think I left the stove on."


End file.
